


a little thing called persuasion

by tisapear



Category: Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Age Difference, At least in my canon, Established Relationship, I might have accidently given Andrea an implied foot fetish?, M/M, Missing Scene, c'mon I refuse to believe that I was the only one who thought this when he said that, whoopsie?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26235682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisapear/pseuds/tisapear
Summary: "Why are you helping us?" — "Because Andrea told me to."It's not entirely a lie, at least.
Relationships: Leslie Kyle/Andrea Rhodea
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	a little thing called persuasion

**Author's Note:**

> me strutting into the fandom and dumping content for my crack ship that no one cares about: this is everyone else's problem now!

Always in the fucking office, Leslie thinks. Must be some secret kink of Andrea's—except that the guy's never shy to approach Leslie with a sly grin and a nonchalant, _"Let's try out something new, hm, gorgeous?"_ all honey-smooth rumble and not-up-for-debate finality.

Not that Leslie would _actually_ object. It might be fun to play hard to get, once in a while, but that's all for show. A _game_ , just the way Andrea likes it—smoke and mirrors, playing pretend, everything for the audience. It's all about the presentation, the pavement for the extravagance of a big climax.

Hands under his thighs, effortlessly lift him up on the desk. Andrea doesn't even bother shoving any of the documents aside, paper crinkling under Leslie's ass as he's deposited. He idly stretches one leg out, places his foot against Andrea's upper thigh. Wiggles his socked toes, just a little too close, yet not close enough. "Think I might be sitting on one of your Bee's approval for a raise," he says, amused.

Andrea cocks his head, one eyebrow raised. Entirely casual, a smooth execution. Probably practices that shit in the mirror. "Must be a sign, then, that it's a good decision."

Leslie turns his head, doesn't suppress the snort. Cheesy fucker, he thinks, but still can't help the shy fluttering on his cheeks because apparently he's fucking _cheap._

Or maybe Andrea's the cheap one, offering his services for free. Wonders what the staff might think if they knew the bossman himself is breaking golden rule number one on a daily basis.

Fingers grab his chin, turn his face forward. The other hand rakes through his hair, smooths his bangs back. Exposes his eyes— _"Such pretty things, what a shame to keep them hidden."_

"Do me a favor, darling, would you?" Buttery-soft, like he's cooing over a street litter of sweet kittens. Trying to suck up, Leslie likes to call it, smile kind of wry, kind of fond. The showman tricks are growing on him, it seems.

He grabs Andrea's wrist, brings the hand still pushing his hair back down so it's resting on Leslie's own thigh. Taps the back twice. "Not gonna do your fucking accountant's job for him again just because he's too stupid to—"

"Shh, not that."

Hand under his shirt, erects an involuntary shiver. Fingers stroke his stomach, ever so gently, the other hand glides over his thigh, his side, up to his shoulder. Shoves his jacket off, the sleeve pooled around his wrist. Andrea's quick to kiss at the exposed skin of his neck, leaves butterfly-burns over the already present marks, beard-scratch sensation always so pleasant. 

Leslie shivers again, feels it zip from his toes up his spine. He's totally being buttered up.

Too bad it's _working_ , goddammit.

"Fine, what do you want?" Smirk against his skin so obvious, _another win for the great Andrea Rhodea_ , bites softly at the back of Leslie's neck. Can't hold back a sharp hiss as teeth scrape over the already irritated flesh. Andrea lets off, but he's quick to nudge Leslie's legs apart, make himself at home in-between them. One hand still caresses Leslie's side under the shirt, the other lazily twirls a strand of his hair around one finger.

"Cloud," the name rolls off Andrea's tongue like molten lava, something so fleeting, something so _precious_ , and Leslie stills immediately, can feel his muscles stiffen (emotions lock up), "if he comes to you asking for help, I want you to give it to him."

Leslie's sure to breathe in slowly before he does something rash. Collected, controlled, composed; don't blink, not too quickly, don't show the effect that request has on you.

Ah, damn. 

He places his palm on Andrea's chest, pushes lightly. Laughs, a hollow sound, can't help the pulsing of _of course_ thrumming through his veins. "What, already bored?" Wants to make it sound like a joke, like he's teasing, he's not serious, really, he _isn't_ , wants to make fun of the guy for being so flighty, but

Something pinches the top of his foot, delicate skin trapped between two fingers. Actually hurts, even with the extra layer of the sock. "Don't be purposefully obtuse," Andrea chastises, but he doesn't sound irritated—more like he's amused, honestly. "But those three..." Must be talking about the _perfection_ **and** his little girlfriends, then. "There is more to them than meets the eye—something that is going on behind the scenes. Let's say I'm curious about where their story will lead them."

"You're curious, alright." Faint mumble, ah, shit, didn't actually wanna say that, sounds too bitter.

Almost like he's _jealous._

Ridiculous.

"Ah, is my honey jealous?"

Leslie grimaces, both at the accusation itself and— "Stop with the bee metaphors."

Sees the expression on Andrea's face, foreboding as anything, and ah, double shit.

"Does that mean you don't want me to penetrate you with my stinger?"

"Alright, I'm just gonna go then—" Sole of one foot is already touching the floor, but Andrea shoves him back, hand wrapped around one calf. Too much force behind the move, though, and Leslie's sprawled out all over the desk, jacket still half off. A pen's digging into his shoulder blade, and there's even more paper crinkling under his back, but Andrea seems to enjoy the sight, satisfied smirk pulling at his lips as he leans over Leslie.

"Now, don't be like that." His shirt ridden up, Andrea's hand splayed over his stomach. Fingertips warm, caressing the smooth skin. Leslie bites his lip, has to hold back a moan.

"So, will you?" Andrea's face is playful as always as he pulls Leslie's socks off with his free hand, cradles one foot, carefully thumbs over each toe, but there's an earnestness in his voice that Leslie, ridiculous fucking jealousy be damned, can't deny.

Doesn't mean he has to be elated about it, though. Rolls his eyes, lets out an exaggerated sigh. " _Fine_ , whatever. I'll help the princess if he comes asking. Not that he'd even _need_ the help." Considering how uncomfortable he looked in that damn corset, considering that he still went though with the whole thing anyway. It's not the strength, the SOLDIER training that makes him someone to fear—it's the determination to do anything necessary to realize his goals.

That, at least, Leslie can respect.

Andrea looks delighted. "Ah, I knew I could count on you." 

There's a biting comment on the tip of Leslie's tongue, but Andrea's already gliding fingers under his waistband, and he's quick to forget what he was about to say. 

"Why are you helping us?"

Aching to the core, an ache so intense and _good_ , with the necklace of red and blue and purple barely hidden under his collar, the fingertip bruises burned into his hips and the damn pen-shaped indent pressed into his shoulder blade—

He looks her in the eyes and says, "Because Andrea told me to."

**Author's Note:**

> Merle who?


End file.
